"I didn't ask a question," I snap back.
"You were about to. And the answer's no."
Gravedigger. Two thousand pounds of black Brahma cross with a reputation that travels further than most men in this sport. Unridden in his last fourteen outs. Snapped Tyler’s neck in Amarillo six weeks ago, the kid's still in a halo brace, eating through a straw. Before that, he put two riders in the hospital on consecutive weekends.
This is the kind of bull that, if you ride him, puts your name in a conversation nobody else can touch.
"He's the highest-marked bull on the card," I say. "If I ride him, that score alone could clinch the round."
"If you ride him," Colten repeats, emphasis on theif. "Ace, that animal broke a man's neck last month. And Tyler was good. He was ranked number twelve in the country."
"I'm ranked two.” I shrug.
And this is exactly why my brothers ain’t bull riders. They don’t understand how bad we want this. We don’t want it easy. We get off on the fear. The danger. We’re wired different.
"That's not the flex you think it is when the bull doesn't give a shit about rankings."
Hunter hasn't moved. He's doing that thing where he goes quiet, and you can feel the calculation happening behind his eyes. Running the odds. Weighing the risk against the reward. Thinking like a boss, not a brother.
"Pick a different bull for the third ride," he says. "You win your first two, you don't need Gravedigger."
"I don't need him. I want him. There's a difference."
"The difference is a stretcher."
"The difference is a title." I look at Hunter. Hold his gaze. "I ride Gravedigger, I'm not just winning today. I'm sending a message to every rider on this circuit that there isn't a bull alive I won't sit on. That's worth more than points. That's a legacy ride. And I need that."
"Legacy rides don't mean shit if you're dead, Ace."
"I ain't dying on a bull, Hunter. I made a promise."
Something shifts in his expression. He knows who I made that promise to. He knows I don't break them.
"This is a bad idea," Colten says flatly.
"Most of my best ideas are to you," I retort.
"Name one."
"Harper."
Colten opens his mouth. Closes it. Hunter almost smiles.
"I'm riding Gravedigger," I say, pulling on my gloves. "You can be pissed about it from the stands. Just trust me."
Jett is now by my side. “I vote yes. And I’m his trainer. So…”
Hunter stares at me for a long beat. Then he leans in, voice low enough that only I hear it.
"You come off that bull wrong, Harper is gonna see it. Think about that. I’m saying this because I love you."
He walks away. Colten pulls out a cigarette, looking between Jett and me.
“One day you’re going to give me a heart attack, Ace,” he says, pointing at me.
“I love you too, Colt.” I laugh.
I think about it. I think about Harper watching me. I think about her face. I think about the sound she'd make.
